Balance
by Elenluin
Summary: Between a phone call and a funeral, Roy tries to regain his footing. Those close to him try to help and comfort him, though he chooses his own path - as usual.
1. The day after

Roy hugged his pillow close, his legs drawn up, his face hidden into the fabric of the pillowcase. He had not even found the energy to remove his uniform, barely had had the presence of mind to untie his boots before he collapsed on the narrow army-bed.

It was a childish gesture, he knew that. Something he would consider overly dramatic at any other time. Not today though.

Even Hawkeye had avoided meeting his eyes today. Even Breda had not known what to say, had only squeezed his shoulder in quiet sympathy while he had packed his briefcase in the office.

Havoc, reliable Havoc, he had stood waiting for him outside of the Eastern command office before Roy had left, offering him a smoke. He had accepted. That in itself was already remarkable, but more so was the fact that Hawkeye, who had refused to let him out of her sight, had not even made the slightest comment.

He had inhaled deeply, hoping that the foul taste of the tobacco would chase away all other thoughts. Of course it had not.

On the train, he had only been able to stare out of the window, too tired to think, after a sleepless night filled with phone calls, after a morning spent packing a few scarce belongings, after an afternoon waiting for the train to arrive.

A knock sounded on his door, a well-known voice softly tried to get through to him. "Sir…Sir? Are you not hungry?"

He clutched the pillow closer. He did not want to go outside. Too many people knew him here in Central. There would be questions, and pitiful looks, and faces marked by grief. He was not ready, not yet.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be able to face them all, but not today.

"Sir. You have to eat something. Can I come in?"

He would have to say something, anything or she would knock down his door within minutes. He knew that she was worried.

Roy forced his muscles to relax a little and let go of the pillow. He pushed himself up on his elbow before he croaked back. "Not tonight Riza."

A silence followed, then the sound of footsteps fading away, then nothing.

Minutes after she had left, he realised he had used her first name. Now she would be really worried. Damn.

He curled up on the bed again, shivering slightly. The weather in Central was cooler than the East had been. He pulled up a blanket and tried to close his eyes.

He failed miserably, stared at the wall instead, and tried to forget the sound of a ringing phone.

He had no idea how much time had passed when another knock at the door startled him from his half-sleep. "I told you, Hawkeye, leave me alone." This time at least he managed to sound a little more like his usual self.

The answering voice was not that of Hawkeye though. "Roy-boy, I know you're in there. If you don't open up this very second, I'm never going to let you into the bar again."

With a sigh he drew himself up and made his way to the door. He did not wait for her to enter after he had unbolted the lock though. Instead he walked back to his bed and threw himself down, curling up around his pillow as he had only moments before.

Madame Christmas closed the door and approached much more gently than one would have expected from her initial tone of voice. She sat down next to him on the bed and ruffled his already unkempt hair. "Riza came to me, she told me what had happened. I could not leave before closing the bar, or I would have been here sooner." She knew better than to ask him why he had not let his trusted lieutenant in. He had never been one to ask for help for himself.

"She's upset too." He murmured to the wall. "She shouldn't be worried about me."

"But she is, my boy. As you are about her." He felt how Madame rested her hand between his shoulder blades, and somehow her touch felt comforting, despite everything.

He turned around, blinking a couple of times and willing himself not to give in to his emotions, "Is she okay?"

Madame shook her head. "She is shocked and sad. I gave her a room, and asked Jennifer and Daisy to keep her company. She worries more about you than about herself though, as usual."

Roy nodded, and turned on his back. He stared at the woman that had been as a mother to him. "I cannot do this, Madame. Not without him."

"Yes you can." It was barely a whisper, "You have always managed to find a way. He would not have wanted you to give up now."

Roy could hear the silent plea in her voice. She wished those words to be true, she wanted him to pick himself up and continue once again, as he had already done far too many times before.

"What is there left to fight for?" He had not realised he had spoken aloud, not until he saw her expression shift.

"Do not tell me you have forgotten." When he did not answer, she continued. "You have to fight for redemption, if nothing else. For the dream which you chased together with Maes for such a long time. For the woman you swore to protect. For those two young boys that have landed in your care. They deserve a brighter future."

"They do." He felt numb, and tired, and closed his eyes, hiding from the woman that had taken the place of a mother, hiding from the world.

She caressed his cheek and pressed a kiss on his head before she rose. "Sleep now, Roy-boy, you need it, and come to me tomorrow. We'll figure this out. Together we can get through this."

He did not answer but turned back to his side, curled around his pillow.

Tomorrow, tomorrow he would be ready to face the world, but tonight he just wanted to forget the ringing of a phone and the utter lack of sound on the other end when he had picked it up.


	2. The night before

He shouted into the receiver. "Hughes?!" No reply came. No matter how much he tried to keep his calm, fear raged through his stomach.

He dialled the number of Maes' office, but it was no surprise when the call wasn't answered, not even after minutes of waiting.

Next he tried the Internal Affairs main number. No answer there either. It was very late, here at Eastern there were only a few people left in the office. The same would be true for Central.

With trembling hands, he put down the receiver and sank back into his chair. He had to think. He had to think. Absentmindedly he ran his hand through his unkempt hair.

His eyes drifted over the phone, he hesitated for a moment, then picked it up again and dialled a simple zero.

The switchboard operator nearly immediately answered. "Colonel Mustang, how can I help?"

"Trace back the call that I last received. See if you can find where it came from. It is an emergency." He had not shouted, but he knew which tone to use to not leave room for discussion, as those that had followed him in Ishbal had learned early on.

"Yes, sir!" sounded the answer of the anonymous operator, sharp as a salute.

He put down the phone again and tried to rake his mind for people who would be able to help him in Central Command. There had to be someone whom he could ask. Someone who would know where Hughes was going, why he would make such a worrying phone call. Armstrong. Armstrong would know.

Just as he wanted to pick up the phone, it started ringing.

With a sigh of relieve he took up the receiver again. Surely this was Maes. The man was such a joker.

He almost shouted in frustration when he heard the voice of the operator again. "Sir, the call you requested was made from a phone booth not far from military headquarters in Central. I spoke to my colleague, and she said that Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes seemed impatient to reach you. Shall we try to connect you again?"

"No, I think I will send someone to him to see what is going on."

"Anyone you want me to connect you to, sir?"

He took a deep breath. "Major Armstrong, first try his office, but if that is not reachable, the Armstrong mansion."

Of course Armstrong had no longer been in the office. When he finally did reach him, after enduring a scolding by the Lady Armstrong, he could hear Alex' sleepy voice quickly turn into something more alert and awake as he understood why he called.

It had been the longest hours of his life. Sitting next to that phone, keeping watch, hoping, praying that everything would turn out all right. All the time thinking that if this was one of Maes' many pranks, he would personally kill him next time he saw him.

After an hour or so, Alex had called to say that he was raising the alarm, that indeed it seemed that . Hughes had left headquarters in haste, and that they all were worried too, now that he had spoken to the operator there, but what it was that she had said, he did not tell.

Roy knew then, that it was only a matter of time before Maes would be found. He just fervently prayed to whatever god that still wanted to listen to him that he would be alive and sound when they did.

Of course he should have known that he was not worthy of any god's attention. That they had long lost their claims on any help from a higher power. He did not even deserve a simple amount of luck.

When the final call came and he heard the trembling voice of a nameless sergeant instead of Alex' booming baritone, it confirmed his worst fears.

He could hear the Strong-arm alchemist's shouts in the background.

He sat there in his chair, the receiver still clutched in his hand. He was all alone now, everyone else long gone.

At some point, he could hear doors open and close again. It took him some time until he realised that people were arriving for a new day, oblivious to what had happened during the night.

He took out his pocket watch and clicked it open. Six-fifteen. Only an hour and a half or so until most of his team would arrive. He would have to tell them, and he did not even know how.

Tiredly he rested his head in his hands.

He did not even know what to tell them. All he knew is that the sergeant had said that Maes was dead. Shot in action he had said. It did not make sense. Maes would have told him if he had been involved in such a dangerous investigation. And Hughes had called him with his last breath. Him, Roy Mustang. Not Gracia, but him, and he would find out why. He would get to the bottom of this, even if it cost him his own life.

Seven zero zero.

He pushed himself to his feet. It was time to go.

Striding through the long corridors of the Eastern command centre, he was grateful for the lack of people at this early hour.

He had seen war. He had seen men die before. He had called very few of them friends, but still. He had always managed to keep his countenance in public, and he would not lose his self-control now.

When he reached the General's door, it was already open. Grumman stood inside, taking some papers out of his briefcase.

He softly knocked, and his superior looked up at the sound. "Ah, Colonel, come in. What brings you here so early in the morning?"

Roy stepped in and closed the door behind him, patiently waiting until Grumman had finished stacking his papers on his desk.

The old man sat down and looked at him over his glasses. "My Mustang, what has happened to you. You look like you have not slept all night. I hope you spent it in a pleasant way at least."

He did not even blink, but straightened his back. "I have come to ask for unpaid leave."

"Out of the question." Grumman took his nearest stack of papers and started to leaf through. "With the unrest in Reole, this is not the time for vacation, Mustang. Even you should know as much." Again the old man peered over his glasses, clearly waiting for a reaction. When it did not come, he leant back in his chair and took another look at Roy. "Sit."

It wasn't a request, and Roy obliged. Grumman put aside his papers, and Roy felt how he was scrutinized for a few long moments.

"Mustang. Speak to me. What happened?"

He did not know where to start. He did not know.

Grumman rose, and came nearer. To his surprise, the General put his hand on his shoulders.

"Colonel Mustang, what happened? I haven't seen you like this since…."

He took a deep breath, and forced the words out. "I received word early this morning. Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes was shot."

Grumman narrowed his eyes. "Hughes from Investigations? How is he? Do you want to go visit him, is that why you need leave?"

Roy turned his head away from his superior and stared at the wall. "He did not survive the attack. He tried to call me here yesterday around eleven, just before…" again he took a deep breath. "Sir. I need that unpaid leave. I _will_ go to central on the afternoon train." He did not say that he would go with or without Grumman's authorisation, but he trusted he had made himself clear enough.

The hands on his shoulder gripped him tighter and he heard Grumman sigh before his superior let go. The old man walked back to his desk and sank down on his chair again. "Does anyone else here in the East know?"

He shook his head. "I spent most of the night trying to find out where Hughes was. Major Armstrong was of great help to organise the search. It was someone of his team who notified me of what had happened."

"At what time was this?"

"Four-twenty-two." He did not know why the General found this useful information, but he had been looking at his watch all night, and he knew exactly when the final phone call had arrived.

Grumman's eyes widened. "You coordinated the search for Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes from here during the night, and you managed to have him found within five hours, despite your lack of resources?"

Roy nodded. Grumman seemed to find all this impressive. To him it was not. Not when he had not managed to find Hughes _alive._

The General leant back in his chair again and remained silent for a few moments. Roy could see him sort out his thoughts, and patiently waited.

"Hmm… I think indeed I will have to send you to Central. General Raven requested my opinion of you. They need someone to take charge of the State Alchemists, and they were thinking of you, with your reputation of Ishbal and all... I thought of giving him a call, but seen the circumstances, I think it would be good if I arrange for a personal interview in Central. You shall have to depart on a short notice, probably already today. I hope that will not bother you?"

"No sir."

Grumman pensively tapped his chin. "You know, I believe Lieutenant Hawkeye has some leave left, which accidentally needs to be taken up before the end of the year. Who knows how the situation with Reole will escalate in the next months. Perhaps this would be a good time to plan it?"

"Yes sir, I will let her know." He stared at a point behind the old man's head. He could not bear to look at him now. The General was far too considerate, offering him an opportunity to leave and even take Hawkeye with him.

"Does she know?" Grumman spoke softly now. "Because she deserves to know. He meant a lot to her too."

"No sir, I will go to my team right away to tell them of my assignment, and about what happened yesterday." He struggled, but succeeded in keeping his countenance even. He probably did not fool Grumman though.

"Very well, Colonel. Dismissed then, go pack your things. I will let you know at what time General Raven will see you tomorrow."

"Thank you sir." He walked out of the General's office, but afterwards hardly knew how he got back to his own desk. He must have met some people on the way, but he could not remember.

Hawkeye was already there, as were Havoc and Breda. It suited him just fine, these three would do. They could brief the others later on.

"Sir?"

He looked the Lieutenant in the eye as he answered her unspoken question on what was wrong. "Hughes was killed tonight."

Roy could see a flicker of pain in her eyes, but she too managed to keep her face unmoved. The loud curse of Havoc crackled through the air though, and the clattering of a falling cup told him that Breda too had heard him. He continued before they could start asking questions, not wanting to leave any room for a real conversation. "There is another matter. Grumman is sending me to central for interviews for the new position. He suggests you take some time off and perhaps visit your relatives. I have no need for your now."

She nodded, with a determination that he admired, for he knew he could not muster it himself in this moment. "I will take care of your train ticket. Leave would be welcome, I have long wanted to visit my aunt in Central. Perhaps we can travel together."

He breathed a small sigh of relief. At least she had understood.

"Havoc, you brief the others."

He walked to his desk and noticed the shaking of his hands while he took up some of the files that he still needed to read. He shoved them into his briefcase. He would not stay here. His subordinates already were far too worried as it was.

He had to keep his cool, they counted on him to lead them forward. They could not see his grief.


	3. Day 2

Riza was waiting outside of the Central city offices. She tried to keep her calm. Roy had not let her in last night, and that had upset her more than anything else. Sure she felt grief, sure she felt the pain when she thought on why she was here, but the fact that he had pushed her away hurt more.

She had run towards Madame Christmas' bar without thinking, concerned that Roy would do something stupid. Madame had taken one good look at her and then had ordered her to stay. Riza smiled at the memory. She had already rented a room in the military hotel, but Chris Mustang could be quite convincing when she wanted to, just like her nephew.

The girls had kept her company while she waited for the Madame to return. Somehow she had hoped that at least his foster-mother would be able to reach him, that she would convince him to come home with her. That hope had dwindled when a tired looking Chris Mustang had leant against her doorpost far after midnight, and had shaken her head before she had gone to bed.

Riza had wanted to ask a thousand questions, yet knew that it was not the right time. She trusted the Madame. She would not have left him alone if there was anything she could have done.

So she had gone to bed, but hardly slept. As soon as the first light came through, she had risen, and had come here, to the entrance of Central command, where she would wait until he arrived. She would not be brushed aside so easily.

It was already a few minutes before nine when she finally saw him. She breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, he looked cleanly shaven, his hair neatly brushed back. The lost look she had seen the day before was gone from his eyes, in its stead there was his usual determination.

He nodded at her when he spotted her. "Hawkeye." He did not even look surprised. Probably he wasn't. He knew her far too well.

"Good morning, sir. You are late." She decided that if he was going to pretend everything was normal, so would she. However, in stead of his usual rakish grin, she only got a small nod in reply.

"I wanted to pass by the Armstrong mansion before I came here."

She held her breath for a moment. Alex, of course. He had wanted to know if Alex was fine. "How was Major Armstrong doing?"

He shrugged. "You know how he is, he has been sent home for a reason. You shouldn't be here either, Lieutenant."

It wasn't really an answer, and she thought that she might pay the Major a visit later today, to see with her own eyes. Now her focus should be on her superior though. "I was told to keep an eye on you, sir." She was rewarded with a ghost of a smile.

"There is nothing you can do here, Hawkeye. I have an appointment with General Raven and Brigadier General Klemin at nine thirty, and I doubt they will appreciate your presence. I heard you have found lodging in the city rather than in the military headquarters, so I'm sure you will find something to do."

"Yes sir." She felt a pang of disappointment at being so dismissed, but she indeed would find something to do. "I will go and see Major Armstrong, and perhaps pay a visit to Lieutenant Ross. She was serving under Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes recently."

His face remained unmoved, and she no longer felt so sure about his current state of mind. Perhaps she preferred the despair of yesterday above this tightly controlled mask. "Keep your eyes and ears open, lieutenant. As soon as I am done here, I want to find out what happened."

"I will, sir."

He turned around with the slightest nod, and marched into Central command. Riza thought it was a good thing that Grumman had given him a task to complete. To meet with the top brass would take his mind off his grief.

She walked away when he had disappeared from her sight, but instead of going to the Armstrong residence, or Maria Ross' apartment, she changed course.

She reached the building after only a short walk. Once she stood before the door, she raised her hand, but hesitated. Then she plucked up all her courage, and knocked.

"Mummy, mummy is that da…" Elicia's face fell as soon as she saw who exactly was in front of the door.

Riza stared at her toes. Suddenly she did not know what to say anymore.

However, Elicia, being the overly enthusiast three-year old she was, broke the silence. "Mummy, it is Uncl'Roy's friend! Look, what I've got!" She pushed up a small brown stuffed animal, which vaguely resembled a horse. Irrationally, Riza thought that the designer had done a rather poor job mimicking the animal. Who on earth knew a pony with such short legs and huge head?

Gracia's white and tired face came into view and the sight of her reminded Riza of why she was here. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I should have called you first."

"No, no, come in." Gracia opened the door, shooing Elicia back inside. The girl skipped and hopped towards her toys, happily babbling at the plush pony, and Gracia followed her daughter with her eyes. "She doesn't understand. I fear the moment that she will." It was barely a whisper.

Riza did not know how to answer. Quietly she followed Gracia to the living room. The coffee table was strewn with papers. All of them contained designs for memorial advertisements. She sank down. "Roy would've come, but…" She knew she was lying, and apparently, so did Gracia.

"No, he won't visit us soon." Gracia did not even sound disappointed. "He will be as devastated as I am…"

Riza fumbled with her handkerchief. "He had to go to central command today. I believe they are discussing his transfer back here, now that General Grand…."

"….has died too." Gracia finished the sentence and Riza cursed herself, she shouldn't have chosen that topic.

"Mummy, what should horsy eat? Can I feed him?" Before Riza could apologise, Elicia stood next to her mother, pulling her sleeve and demanding her attention.

When she returned, the toddler temporarily satisfied with a handful of oats, she considered Riza with that motherly look, that even though they were about the same age, made her feel so young. "Riza, he will need you."

"What about you? Is there anything I can do?" She felt helpless, and longed for a distraction to keep her occupied. She thought back at Roy's words. "Would you like me to try and find out what happened? What really happened I mean?"

Gracia gave a small shrug. "They told me he was shot while on duty. I do not think it makes a difference why or how." Tears welled up in her eyes. "It does not make a difference to me, all I know is that I will keep watching the door day and night, waiting for him to return. That Elicia will keep asking for her father to cuddle her to sleep at night. That I will never hear his loud voice booming through the hallway ever again." She hid her face in her hands.

Riza stood up and went to sit next to Gracia. She put her arm around the other's shoulders and held her for a while. She was lousy with words, she knew that, but whatever comfort she could give, she would. Softly she started to speak. "He saved us, after the war. He saved Roy, and Roy saved me."

Gracia looked up, her cheeks stained with tears. "I think he needed both of you as much as you needed him. It gave him a sense of purpose after the war, to look after Roy, to support his crazy ambitious goals, and more recently, he was looking after those Elric kids. He needed someone to take care of, Riza. If only to forget the horrors that still plagued him in his nightmares."

Riza stared at her hands. She knew that feeling all too well.

She startled as Gracia embraced her. "Go back to him, Riza. He needs you more than I do right now. I have to prepare myself for the funeral."

When she answered, it was in a small voice. "Roy doesn't want me near him now. He pushed me away yesterday. When is the funeral?"

Gracia sighed. "The funeral will be already tomorrow. I had little to say on the timing. The military is taking care of everything. I have received a letter that even the Fuhrer himself will be present. The only thing I can choose is what to put in the newspaper, everything else is determined by protocol."

Her pained expression spoke volumes on what she thought on the fact that she could not even give her husband the goodbye that she wanted.

"Will you take Elicia?"

"I will. She needs to see, or I will never be able to explain her why her father is not coming back."

Riza grasped her hand again. "We will be there. If Maes gets a state funeral, Roy will be close to you, and I will be there too, somewhere in the back."

"Oh Riza. Don't let him do something foolish. He does want you near him, you know he does. Keep him close to you while you still can."

Riza squeezed Gracia's hand and rose. "I will." She wanted to say more, but did not know how to express her feelings, so she left in silence.

Once outside, she realised that she too felt a hole in her heart where Maes had been. He would have known how to reach Roy. He would have found a way. But now it was up to her, and she doubted if she was up to the task.


	4. Rage

Roy took a deep breath. He straightened his dress uniform and rearranged the broad ribbon that ran from his shoulder to his hip. He carefully took some of the brillantine out of the jar and slicked back his hair. Today he would have to make sure his appearance was spotless. He had heard half of the top brass would be present, not to mention the Fuhrer himself.

He looked in the small mirror that hung above the wash basin. It had a crack near the bottom that skewed the view on his jacket. Absentmindedly he smoothed the black ribbon again, and could not help meeting his own eyes in the mirror.

The dark circles around them told him what he already knew. He had not slept much, despite his tiredness. Since yesterday evening, he had been plagued by a thrumming headache that would not disappear. All he really wanted was to curl up in his bed. But he could not, not today. Today he had a duty to fulfil.

He walked through the long corridors of the military hotel, his peaked cap tucked safely under his arm. He could hear the loud, rude jokes of two soldiers long before he saw them, but as soon as he approached they fell silent and instantly saluted. They did not meet his eyes, but looked at a point on the wall just behind him. He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. A bitter smile played around his mouth. Most enlisted men were weary of him, and not only because he was a colonel. Here was the hero of Ishbal, the notorious flame alchemist, who could wipe out entire villages with a flick of his hand. Even when they were joking about his many affairs with the girls here in East city, there was always that undercurrent of fear.

Today for the first time in many years, he felt that that fear was justified.

There was a rage inside of him, a hatred for the person that had killed his friend.

A rage that he carefully fed and kept alive.

The double doors of the military hotel swung open, and he stepped out in the cool autumn air. Hawkeye was already waiting for him with the car.

He had not seen her since he had left for the meeting with Klemin and Raven. He knew she had found a home of sorts at his aunt's bar, and was glad for it. He had called her, of course, once he had learned the timing of the funeral, but it seemed she had already known.

When he approached, she looked at him, and it was he who lowered his eyes.

That look contained too much compassion, too much feelings.

It was a state funeral, and with that everything was said. The gunshots, the coffin draped with the Amestrian flag, he had seen it all far too often. For a while it made things easier. He could pretend the coffin was empty. He could pretend it was someone else they were burying.

Until Elicia started to cry for her father.

Every muscle in his body tensed. He remembered all too well from his own childhood how it felt when you watched your whole world sink into a dark, cold grave.

Thankfully Gracia managed to console the child.

He stared at the disappearing coffin, and blocked out the world, focussing only on the increasing amount of earth that covered his only friend.

One by one the attendants left. The Fuhrer first, his followers close behind. Alex, who had broken down in tears, was led away by a few of his companions. The family disappeared to the wake that had been organised. He had been invited too, but he had sent Gracia a meaningless note to tell her that he would unfortunately not be able to attend.

He could not face her, not yet.

Before long, he stood alone before the grave. The setting autumn sun caressed his face and he stared at the headstone.

Brigadier General Hughes.

Idiot.

Companion.

Friend.

His only friend.

He remembered the eternal smile on Maes' lips, the twinkle in his eyes when he teased Roy about finding a wife, the easy way he had with people, so different from his own superficial charm. The sharpness of his mind, how he always managed to cheer him up, no matter how bleak the situation.

He remembered and clenched his fists.

He stared at the stone and tried to ignore the formulas that were swirling before his mind's eye. They were complicated, but he was no ordinary alchemist, and he was certain he could…. No. He only had to think of the Elric brothers to know that this was off limits. He supressed a sigh. Those boys would be devastated when they found out. Maes had cared for them too.

Soft footsteps sounded behind him. Hawkeye. She should not be here. He wanted to be alone.

"Colonel?"

He did not dare look at her. Instead he rambled on about alchemists, what monsters they were. He trusted that she knew what he meant. His mind wandered as he put on his cap again.

"Are you alright?"

He could still remember the moment when he had seen Hughes again in the encampment in Ishbal. He had been dead tired, his mind numb after another raid on a harmless village. It had been a relieve to hear the voice of one who had known him in more peaceful times, to see a well-known face. Maes had changed, as had he, marked as they were by the horrors they had seen, by the crimes they had committed for their country. Still, war had been more bearable with him by his side. He had had someone to talk to, to share his thoughts with. He had found someone that believed in him. After the war, they had managed to keep in touch. They had not needed words to understand how difficult the other had found it to return to a seemingly normal life. Hughes had doubtlessly despaired every time Roy had isolated himself, lost in his books, unable to muster the energy to face the world. He himself had often sighed at Hughes' countless phone calls, the man would not stop bragging about his wife and daughter, but always, always had he understood that Maes too needed the reassurance that someone would pick up the phone when he called.

The reassurance that he wasn't alone.

Until he did not answer. Until he failed his friend.

"I'm fine. It's a shame that it's going to rain." He no longer could hold back the tears, despite all his efforts, and was more than glad that Hawkeye refrained from commenting.

They walked to the car together, in utter silence.

He took the keys out of her hands and drove straight to Central's headquarters. He had a duty to fulfil. He had a rage to keep alive.

He spoke to a lot of people that afternoon after the funeral, but in the end, he returned to his room alone, despite Hawkeye's well-meant offer of joining her to Madame's bar. She was his loyal shadow and she too was a supporter of his goals, but he did not want to burden her with his grief. She had already suffered more than enough because of him.

Once inside, he ordered a bottle of gin from room service, and poured out a large glass. He downed it far too quickly and unseeingly stared through the window.

He tried to find his rage again, the fire that had burnt so brightly even that morning, but found nothing.

He had to focus. If he wanted to achieve anything, if he wanted to at least make sure that he achieved his goals, their goals, he would need to move on. He could not stand still.

He tried to focus on the bloodstains in the phone booth, the mess in the library.

Nothing.

Then he thought of Gracia's face at the funeral, sad and lost, and concerned. Elicia. Her cries. There. There it was. There was the rage.

He owed it to both of them, he would find Maes' killers, even if it would prove to be the end of him.

Rage. He had to hold on to his rage. Without it, he did not know if he would find the strength to set one foot in front of the other. Without it, he would curl up on his bed and cry for hours, days perhaps.

He could not do that to Hawkeye and the rest of his team.

They counted on him.

* * *

_Yes, I realise this piece is very fragmented... I'd like to think that so is Roy at this point in time..._


	5. Peace

The garden was beautiful this time of the year. Hundreds of crocuses and daffodils adorned the grass, and the trees had an almost fluorescent shine of green over them, their leaves starting to peak out after the long winter. Riza Hawkeye did not pay too much attention to her surroundings though. She was looking for someone, and refused to be distracted by a thing so futile as the sound of the birds building their nests, or the pain in her neck for that matter.

She had been allowed to walk outside today, for the first time since she had been admitted, and the first thing she did was to look for Roy.

He had visited her, of course. But he had never stayed long, never said much and she had not dared ask. Not while his eyes were grey and unseeing. They had tiptoed around each other, sought a balance after everything that had happened, but somehow never found it.

He had not stayed long in the hospital at all, barely long enough to get his hands cared for. He had gone back to work days after the Promised Day, never standing still, never looking back.

However today, she had heard that he was spotted in the garden, and she had decided that she needed to speak to him.

She found him sitting on a pristine white bench, staring ahead. She felt a pang of regret at the realisation that he could not see the four ducklings that plodded behind their mother on the pond.

With a sigh she sank down next to him. She would never have admitted it, but she still felt weak, and just crossing the garden had exhausted her.

"Hawkeye."

He turned his head towards her and after only a fraction of a second she understood. "Sir." She could barely hide her emotions at seeing those eyes focussed on her once again. He could see. It wasn't over yet. He could see.

He stared back at the ducklings. "I'm sorry. I have neglected you."

"No sir, you have not. You have a goal to pursue." She tried to put her heart's content in those words. Please, please let him understand, let him hear how worried she had been, how much she cared.

"Do I?" It sounded sad and forlorn.

"Of course you do." She whispered, and softly laid her hand on his arm. "You know you do, or you would not have taken the stone to restore your sight."

He slowly nodded. "Perhaps." He paused a moment, and when he continued, his words were almost inaudible. "but perhaps I was blind long before the Truth took my eyesight."

She hesitated, but then squeezed his forearm. "Why would you say such a thing?"

He put his own hand over hers, but never averted his gaze from the pond. "It is strange. I have never had more time to think than in these last few weeks. Grumman would not let me stay in the headquarters past five o'clock." He sighed. "I assume that he wanted me to visit you."

It was a good thing that Riza had known Roy for over a decade. She did not need to hear the words of an apology, she could tell how he felt from his voice, and she smiled. "He can be a foolish old man at times."

Roy grunted non-committedly, "At least all that time in the dark made me realise something. I made a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"Well, more than one." He hesitated for a moment. "Do you remember when we met each other in Ishbal? You shot that rebel that threatened Maes and me, and he decided to introduce me to you…"

"… never knowing that we had known each other for years…" she completed his sentence. "Yes, I remember that."

"He looked so dumb, his face was just priceless." Roy smiled a smile riddled with sadness as he continued. "In that moment I realised two things. First, that I had dragged you into a war that wasn't yours, that it was my fault that you were there. Second, that even in the bleakest of times, in the most difficult of situations, Maes could make me laugh."

He took her hand between his palms, and she could feel the bandages hidden beneath his pristine white gloves. Not all his wounds had been healed.

"You remember when he put that monstrously sized picture of Elicia on the scoreboard?"

Riza smiled. "When you fought Ed? Who could forget such a thing, sir? I think that picture will be remembered by every single soldier in East city for decades to come. It was nearly as memorable an occasion as when he invited the team over for her first birthday party, and made us all wear those paper tiara's with cat's ears, while he dressed up in a full furry costume."

"All because Elicia liked kitties." Roy chuckled. "Yes."

For a while they silently stared at the ducklings' efforts to follow their mother out of the pond. The little yellow balls of fur disappeared between the lilies.

"How are you holding up, sir?" She whispered. She did not really expect an answer.

Roy rubbed his forehead. "Reasonably, I guess." He took a deep breath. "You know, Hawkeye, in the darkest hours, I think of Hughes. I think of the smiles he shared. Even when there is grief, and it is sometimes heavy to bear, those happy memories comfort me. They comfort me, in a way that the hatred that I directed at his murderer never did." He looked her in the eye. "I made a grave mistake, and I made you suffer too. For that, I'm sorry. It will not happen again."

Surprised by the unexpected apology, Riza shook her head. "Sir, you really should stop blaming yourself. I have told you repeatedly, I make my own decisions. I too was angry, I too wanted to find that murderer." She freed her right hand from his grasp and laid it on his cheek in an uncharacteristic display of tenderness. "You know there is no instant cure for this kind of grief. All we can do is to be there for each other."

He flinched from her touch, and stared again at the now empty pond. She realised in that moment that while he was wearing familiar ignition cloth gloves, there were no arrays printed on them. Of course. He did not need them anymore, not after all that had happened.

The closeness they had shared in those first hours after their victory would not last, she had known that. They had let their self-control slip against their better judgement. Still it hurt her that he shied away from her. While she had been the one to carefully keep him at an arm's length before, it seemed he was determined to do the same now.

They sat in silence for a long time before he spoke again. "It is a matter of balance. Fullmetal was right. The cocky, fearsome Colonel that answers any opposition with violence cannot lead the nation." She wanted to interrupt, but he moved his palm up to silence her before she had even uttered a word. "I still think it is my duty to push this country in the right direction, but to do so, I need to atone for my many sins. I need to let go of my anger." He paused a moment, while he looked at his hands and flexed his fingers. "I need to let go of my grief. Maes wouldn't have wanted me to throw away my ambitions so easily. So I decided to take Marcoh's offer, regardless of the fact that I think I did not deserve it." He smiled sadly, "I am lucky Marcoh is an alchemist too. He understands such things. He healed my sight, but there is a price to pay. There is something I promised him."

Riza studied his face. He looked as determined as ever. He had not spoken of a price beforehand, and she tried to supress the worry that rose in her stomach. She trusted him, he would not have made a foolish promise. "What is it that he wanted?"

"He wants me to go back to Ishbal. To correct my wrongs. He wants me to rebuild the province, to facilitate the return of the refugees. To let him return there to be a doctor again, to heal what was broken by all us state alchemists." Roy looked her in the eye, and now it was she who almost flinched away from the burning fires she saw inside.

To go back there. It went against all her instincts. Still she smiled. "Don't even dare ask me the question, sir. You know that I will be right by your side."

He nodded, unperturbed. "Never would I doubt your loyalty, Hawkeye. Not after all we have been through together."

The fire in his eyes was still there while he spoke to her, but it seemed the flames had a different quality to them. She felt her cheeks flush. "What does grandfather say of this plan?"

A familiar smirk crossed Roy's face. "He thinks it is a fabulous opportunity to show the country he is a great leader." With a sigh he rose from the bench. "Come, lieutenant. You should go back inside. It is cold out here, and I would not want to upset your doctor. After all, today is only the first day they let you out."

She nodded and rose too, sharply saluting her superior officer before she turned away. "Goodbye, sir. I will make sure that I am back by your side in no time."

He was far more serious when he answered, "Hawkeye, first take care of yourself. I cannot trust you to have my back if you are not healthy."

"Yes, sir." She made her way back to the hospital's entrance, and saw Roy walk away in the opposite direction. It had indeed become chilly, and she drew her woollen vest closer around her.

It was only when the nurse was changing her bandages that evening, that she realised that she had never told Roy that this had been her first trip outside her room. He must have called the hospital regularly to know such a detail.

She smiled at the thought. He still felt the same as she did.

The balance was back.


End file.
